


écarté

by azziraphale, SaccharineCyanide



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ballet, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves is Alive, Childhood Trauma, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Light Angst, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, five hargreeves needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:54:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azziraphale/pseuds/azziraphale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaccharineCyanide/pseuds/SaccharineCyanide
Summary: on the twelfth hour of the first day of october, 1989, eccentric billionaire and former ballet master reginald hargreeves adopted seven children to sculpt into the most talented dancers in the world. when he dies, he leaves the former students of the inaugural class of the umbrella academy to pick up the pieces and turn them into art. compelled by the instructions written on their father's will, the siblings are forced to reconvene and perform one last act, a final bow.





	écarté

on the twelfth hour of the first day of october, 1989, eccentric billionaire and former professional dancer reginald hargreeves adopted seven children to sculpt into the most talented dancers in the world.

if the world was like a stage, then the world was silent. vanya peered out into the hollow space in front of her, the empty, shadowed seats that filled the theatre acting like the swell of music that usually resided in it. the only light that was turned on was the one immediately above her, for no particular reason than to just help vanya see the steps in front of her. not that she needed it, of course. the theatre was like her home, both in regards to the amount of time she spent in it and how much she found solace in the hallowed space. vanya knew all the nooks and crannies of it by heart, like the palm of her hand, or the strings of her violin.

she picked the instrument up, cradling it below her chin and the crook of her shoulder. her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as the first tinny notes filled the air.

in the worst of times, when she was left alone with the old, bitter memories in her head and the darkness that still nipped the corners of the walls, she is reminded of the academy. the acoustics of the theatre, however magnificent they were, were not dissimilar to their studio back at home. home, if she could even call it that. the thought of the umbrella academy brought with it the names of people she would rather forget. well, maybe not all of them, if it came down to the very details. but some memories were just too painful to merit a second thought.

vanya slipped into a trance—rare these days, she’d been doing rather well in terms of not letting herself go down such rabbit holes—and she found herself fading away from guiding her strings to practice her assigned solo. she started to wring out the opening notes of a song, close to her heart but like a landmine of bittersweet memories, and her hands continued the the tune like it was second nature.

it was a piece that their father had been obsessed with, the notes bringing out their own kind of sour nostalgia. back in the academy, when they needed to warm up before starting a new dance, or when they needed to reset their minds and calm their nerves, reginald always turned to a classic—the phantom of the opera. it was the perfect mix of triumphant and tragic, just like the story itself. the mystery of the melody eddied around vanya like smoke in the dark as she brought the song to life, one stroke of the bow at a time.

as she played, the memories she had been valiantly trying to repress emerged with each note.

with the gentle starting E, she saw luther hargreeves, her brother, the demanding tone he would instruct their other siblings with, the esteemed bravado he would carry in his own steps. at this note, he would glide across the studio floor, followed by allison, the two of them batting their figures against one another, the opening act. starry-eyed, elegant allison, whose limbs would flow like water, sinuous and calm. if you concentrated hard enough on the steely features she would uphold on stage, you would still be able to see the inklings of a mischievous smile, stretched prettily across her lips.

the following note stirred memories of diego, his severe countenance and smile he reserved for the moments when luther would make a mistake. he was agile in the way he moved across the floor, his arabesques always impeccable. diego’s style was sharper, more quick lifts and tight turns. still, he would join the two seamlessly on stage, the swiftness of his feet paired tastefully with the painstaking movements of his siblings, ricocheting from the left side of the room, gliding forward to the right. vanya always stood far, far away.

next, of course, was klaus. klaus held the tension of the group, the middle ground between the slow and the fast, the hot and the cold. his style was more relaxed, following the rhythm of the music instead of making his own. this was not a philosophy he applied to matters outside of dance, however. klaus stood out more than all of them combined. naturally, their father tried to quell the originality that gushed from his very being, but the attempts were always in vain. there would always be an odd kind of beauty about him, something none of the siblings could quite place. but when his eyes were closed, his head angled upwards to where the light would shine against the curve of his limbs, bringing out the impossible arches he would make, the bends of his body, the light of his potential beaming bright against his soul was palpable. that was then, however. now all he was was a grim reminder of how quickly things could go wrong.

ben came in when the notes swelled into a staccato, the beats fast and thunderous and wild. he came in sprinting, limbs moving sharply, even sharper than diego. there was nothing at all shy about ben when he’s on stage, something like fire visibly playing in his chest. the only person who could match with his stubborn pace was five, albeit a little more loosely. five may have had a joint entrance with his brother, but his lithe form still demanded individual attention. he circled ben, accentuating his speed, balancing his sprite-like movements. it was interesting to watch them both burn so brightly. five was the fuel to ben’s flame.

the music always reached a climax soon enough, and the siblings gathered at the centre of the stage. what was previously a discordant sort of beauty comes together like a snap, all at once. the siblings meld with one another, someone using another’s arm as support, others hoisting their figures up to the sky, their movements conjoined to one. vanya always used to watch them in awe during this time, hardly focusing on the notes spilling from her strings. she could only imagine what it felt like to be so effortlessly dependent on each other in that way. when five extended his arm, ben was always there to pull him to motion. when allison performed an elaborate jump, luther always caught her with the signal of the beat. diego was always one step behind klaus, chasing one another in a complex imitation of a pas de deux, and when he retreated, klaus always followed in that same second.

the music came to an abrupt, merciless stop. vanya was yanked back into reality, the memory-induced stupor that had once gripped her thinning its force. an eerie chill ran down her spine as she dropped the bow she had clutched between her fingers, the clatter loud and disturbing as it echoed in the space. something felt awfully wrong. something that felt a lot like the stolen ending of a song.

vanya’s phone gave a shrill, jolting ring. she scrambled for it, unused to getting calls at all, let alone during a rehearsal, and pressed the answer button before she hesitantly brought it up to the shell of her ear.

“ _ring, ring_ .” came a breathless voice from the other line, the sound familiar and oddly comforting. a mirthless laugh came next, more morbid, but it definitely made the identification of the voice easier. “ _dad’s dead_.”

“klaus?” vanya’s voice was small and unsure, her heart hammering at the mention of _dead_ , but then again, as much as she used to care about  him (and in a way, still did), klaus wasn’t a very trustworthy person. regardless, his timing was just plain scary. he had always had a knack for sensing things that weren’t privy to others. it was like he could understand people on a different level than anyone else. “what? are you high?”

“ _nice to hear from you too, vanya!_ ” klaus chuckled. vanya could hear the melodramatic pout in his voice. he hadn’t changed a bit. “ _if i had a nickel—_ ”

vanya shook her head disbelievingly. “i haven’t heard from you in what, a decade? i-i don’t even have your number saved...what is this?” she heard a rustling through the phone. “where—where are you?”

the noise became more intense, as if the disturbance was gaining proximity. “ _does it matter where i am? it’s where i’m going. where we’re all going, actually. emergency family meeting at the academy. see you there!”_

“wait, klaus-”

“ _i love you too! bye!_ ”

the line clicked dead. vanya stared at her phone screen, the terminated phone call blinking back up at her. after the initial shock of both the message and hearing her brother’s voice for the first time in over a decade, she made the tentative decision to save the number under “klaus,” though for all she knew it could have just been a borrowed stranger’s phone. as a second thought, she searched up “reginald hargreeves.” a part of her was hoping, or _expecting_ , one answer. another part wanted to finally hear something much darker.

 

**_Breaking: Eccentric Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves Found Dead In Residence._ **

**_The World Bids A Begrudging Goodbye To The Father Of The Umbrella Ballet And Pointe Academy._ **

**_Retired Dancer, Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves Passes Away At The Age Of—_ **

 

before she could read the last word, vanya breathed out a staggering exhale, stepping forward to clutch the music stand she had in front of her. the knuckles of her hands were white, the tremor in her fingers shaking the metal. was this a good thing, that the man who caused her so much torment was finally gone? was she happy?

a part of her wanted to call five, or ben, or even allison just to know what they thought about the situation. were they having the same battling thoughts? the odd, guilty feeling of relief? but she knew the chances of them receiving her kindly was slim. she was lucky that klaus even spoke to her. then again, he had probably forgotten what she had done. or he was too high to remember.

violinists didn’t make much money. that was the bottom line for vanya when she left the academy. auditions were grueling and usually ended badly for her, and she had never been good at waitressing, so one could imagine the sort of desperation that led to the making of _Pointeless: My Life As The Accompanist To The Umbrella Academy._ of the whole thing, she was probably proudest of the title. the reactions from her siblings rendered her utterly ashamed of the contents of the book itself. the only interactions she’d had with them since leaving the academy were ones of resentment and disdain. from most of them anyway. luther had written a letter disguised as fanmail to send his bitter regards, diego had called him to put in his own regards on the same page (because nothing brings siblings together like pure hatred), and allison had trashed the book in an interview on a national talk show. vanya knew five probably hated it, too, but he had completely dropped off the grid. no one knew where he was, otherwise he would have given her a rather lengthy piece of his mind about it. she hadn’t heard from ben, but she knew he read it, too. he was just too nice to say anything. and klaus...she doubted he even got through the first page. the last time she saw him, he could barely walk in a straight line.

she consoled herself with the fact that she would have the answer to all of that once she reached the academy. the old, dusty building where vanya would spend hours upon hours by herself, isolated if not for the times when they would have to perform together. she still remembered how it felt, to live _amongst_ them, but not _with_ them. to cherish the simplest memories of when reginald would go on a trip, or when the mornings were slow. somehow, the dread of having to see all of them again felt much, much worse than discovering that he had died.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the dance au fic we've been working on!! come find us on [my](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/klauzoleum) and [sac's](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theseaance) tumblrs to see more of our ramblings!!


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